


Feral Turtles

by DeathDirt



Category: TMNT - Fandom
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-20
Updated: 2017-03-21
Packaged: 2018-10-08 08:46:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,572
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10382865
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeathDirt/pseuds/DeathDirt
Summary: So many years go by in a turtle's life. It's hard to go it alone. Some can make it. Others can't. This one couldn't. Now he's broken, hurt. A wild animal in some respects, and yet still a loving brother in others.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Because everyone needs this in their life! Also, not-updated fics. Ew. Like my Gladiator AU! (I promise I'll work on that soon)

Donatello didn't think. There was no one in the room that he could see, so he just ran in, mind already on what was on the other side of the dark doorway. Before he was halfway across the room, a low shadow shifted to his left. It was barely noticeable, but Donnie caught it. His brothers ran past, just as eager to get out as he was, but they didn't notice it. The blob of black that seemed deeper than the rest of the room. It wasn't big enough to be anything terribly dangerous like Xever or Bradford...if they were still alive, given that they probably didn't have incredibly long lifespans anymore. Silently exhaling, Donatello eased over, deep chocolate irises focused on picking up any other movement than what was in front of him. He saw, oddly, nothing. With his bo staff, he gave a gentle nudge to the figure, which pulled further back and finally looked at him. Bright green eyes... Much too familiar. Donnie felt sick to his stomach.

"Donnie!" Leo hissed. "C'mon! We need to get through!" Don looked over his shoulder at his eldest brother, then back to the form in front of him. The eyes were hard, ready to fight if he got any closer, but Don could see that behind that mask, the creature was scared. Frightened . Preparing to feel pain. "Leo, stop. We gotta...gotta pull back."  
"What?! Donnie, I-"  
"It's Raph." Leo went deadly silent. He held too much pain within that single name. "No...it's not," he whispered, head turning. Don had half a mind to roll his eyes and give Leo a shove, but this matter was too sensitive for them. He knew better. So Don instead put a hesitant hand down on what he could tell was his brother's leg, just to gauge a reaction. He seemed to pull back more, want to retreat further into his tiny cubby hole. Don grumbled, clearly frustrated. "Raphael? Hey, it's just us. You...you remember us, right? Donnie? Leo?" Don knew he was getting his hopes up, just wishing that his lost brother would remember him, but there was no way he could. He'd been taken when they were young. Just old enough to be walking and talking. And in Raph's case, as Donnie fondly remembered, hitting. That was his go-to, which made this skittish behavior strange to Don. It gave him a stab of pain, to see his hotheaded big brother so scared of...well, _him_ , but Don's mind was borderlining on emotionally dead. He was very analytical, and he was more concerned with why Raph was like this than that little prick of emotion.

Someone charged into the room. "Raphael! Attack, you worthless mutt!" Don whipped his head around to see Bradford - very _very_ grey around the muzzle - glaring in his direction, but clearly over his shoulder. "Pfft. Like he'll do that..." Except he did. Donnie felt the sharp sting of something on his forearm and turned to see that his brother had bitten him! The Raph he knew didn't follow orders. He'd yell at Leo just for suggesting something when they were kids. Yet know, he was perfectly willing. Don didn't want to, but he shoved his knee hard into Raph's centerline. It...kind of gave in. As soon as he felt it, Donnie tried to stop himself mid-action but it didn't work. Raph yelped like a dog and crawled back to his hidey-hole. Bradford growled from behind Donnie, but the genius found himself craving bloodshed.

It wasn't the answer, but all those years without a muscle-headed, temper-flaring brother made Donnie grow to crave violence at times when he was bored. He glared back at the dog, advancing. The mutant stopped short however, and clicked his tongue (wow, he could do that?). Don watched as Raph scuttled from his hole to Bradford, reluctantly leaning against his legs. Like a dog. A... _dog_. That got all three turtles' blood boiling. "Now over," Bradford rumbled. It seemed some fire still hadn't left their brother's gut because he sat there, on all fours, looking straight ahead, with no indication that he was going to do anything. "I said get over! Filthy mutant!" Without waiting for his command to be followed, Brad fard back-handed the feral turtle. He yelped again, landing on his shell, and this time stayed there, Bradford's mangled foot pressing on his chest. 

Donnie wasn't going to take this any longer than he had to.

He rushed, bo staff lowered, ramming it straight into the dog's chest. The jarring impact made Donnie flex his arms for a moment, but it got Bradford away, wheezing like he was having a heart attack. _Good fucking riddance,_ Don thought as he turned back to his feral brother. Raph had not made any attempt to move himself from his shell, waiting either for Bradford to come back or for someone else to assert themselves over him, most likely. Donnie knelt down, attempting to gently flip Raphael over, but he was having none of it, half-heartedly growling to get him away, There was no time for this. Don resheathed his bo, then picked Raphael up under his legs and shoulders. Even though he was still big, the scrawny Donatello found him rather easy to pick up, which put his mind on high alert.

"Leo! I don't care if you two wanna get killed but we gotta get out of here!" Donnie rushed off the way that the three had come in, with Leo and Mikey close behind, trailing blood from their weapons and feet. "Don."  
"What?"  
"Is this really worth it?"  
"Worth what, Leo? This is our brother, alright? Gone or not, he's still alive. It's...our job. For Splinter. It's the least we could do after all these years." That shut Leo up for the rest of the run home.


	2. Chapter 2

Tightly clinging to his brother, Donnie rushed into his lab, the other two close behind. "Donnie, what do you expect to do?" Leo demanded, watching as Don set Raph down and strapped him to the table, where he tried to squirm his way to freedom. Leo would have liked to have thrown up. Raph, the brother he always remembered best, looked exactly like Bradford had called him. A mutt. A stray animal, picked up off the street. His scales were dirty, beyond recognition. Though his eyes held their intense glow, there was no fire in them, just a small spark of will that was going out as it was. And underneath the dirt, Leo could see and Donnie panicked about dozens of scarring, open wounds, some of them bleeding and some of them going sickly green. They all wanted to throw up. And it seemed like Raphael was trying to. They could see his eyes roll, wildly panicking, trying to hurl, but nothing came out but spine-chilling heaves and wet sounds. Like he was supposed to have something to throw up, but his body was fighting against it. Donnie could barely stand it. He took a deep breath, then tried to gingerly place a comforting hand on Raph’s soft chest. It seemed to work a bit - he stopped dry heaving, but he was clearly not going to be above panicking for a while. Well enough. “Mikey, go get some rags and water, so we can clean him up some.” The youngest nodded, then dashed off, leaving the other two.

“Don.”  
“Leo, I know. I get it. He’s been gone for years. We don’t know if he’ll even remember us. Remember this place. In fact, it’s likely that he won’t. But I… You couldn’t expect me to leave him. You saw what Bradford did to him. The others couldn’t treat him any better… I wasn’t about to let them just keep him.” Leo shut his mouth, let Donnie have his monologue. He was actually quite grateful that Don decided to take him. While he was so busy freeing Raphael, Leo had seen the sheer number of Foot that they’d have to fight to get all the way through. Saving Raph gave them the perfect out for an escape. “That’s not exactly what I was after, Donnie.” Leo watched as Raph slowly came down from his wild panic, watching both of them talk but habitually returning his gaze to Don’s hand. “I want to just… I don’t know.”

Don tilted an eye ridge. Their leader, at a loss for words? A true miracle.

“What?”  
“Be careful. We don’t know how far this goes. I saw Bradford was sort of able to order him around, but you saw, too. It didn’t exactly work right away. Maybe we can bring him back, maybe not,” Leo continued, eyes locked on his brother, “but I don’t think he should stay locked up like this, regardless.”  
“Your point?”  
“Try not to get your hopes up. It may be possible but we don’t know. Okay?” Don exhaled in exasperation, but nodded. He had been desperate to bring him back, so perhaps that was where his leader was coming from - mistaking desperation for hope, as if he were Mikey. No, Don knew that Raph could never go back to the way he was, could never recover from this. He just wanted to know that he wouldn’t be hurt and abused any longer.

“Hey guys! I got all the stuff.” Mikey ran in, rags in one arm and a bucket of warm water in the other, sending Raph back into his frenzy. Water wasn’t a good thing. The only water he was allowed was the occasional drink from a bowl he had on the floor. Otherwise, water was just a thing of torture. Don noticed the quick transition and placed his body between Raph and their little brother. “Raph, calm down. You just need a quick wipe-down, ‘kay? Gotta calm down for it, alright?” Raph wanted to say something, but held himself back, just stiffened up like a good boy and waited. Not really what Donnie wanted, but he’d live with it. “Better hurry. I want to see how bad he is and then get him in the spare room to settle down.” No arguments there. Mikey was mostly surprised that they’d found their mysterious brother he’d always been told about. He always figured that his third brother was just something they told him about to keep him happy when he was young. Apparently not.

Like Don said, it was just a wipe-down, without much resistance from the feral turtle. He seemed to take it well, but Don could see how wide and dilated his eyes were, even without looking at anything they did. So he worked quickest, avoiding Raph’s mouth - his bite from earlier still ached terribly. They finished up and Don, with much cajoling from Leo, released the clamps on Raph. As soon as he was freed, he scurried off to find a hiding spot. Somewhere small and dark…under the desk. He crammed himself in the knee space, softly whining because of the wet feeling on him. Raphael lapped at the spots that seemed the most wet, expecting the bitter chemical taste of soap to bite back, but there was none. Just warm water. He was desperate enough for it that he didn’t question it.

Don and Leo didn’t follow, but Mike was quick to keep an eye on his brother, trying his best to keep his distance. “Now what?” Don sighed. “Wait until he feels like getting out. At least he’s not totally submissive. It makes it a little more complicated, but maybe it’s better that way.” He hoped, at any rate.

Raph noticed Mikey watching him and stopped, still whining. “Hey, man. You wanna come out?” The emerald turtle shook his head. He didn’t want to get out of his hidey-hole. It was all a test. Unless he was commanded to, he couldn’t come out of his cubby. He got punished if he came out without being told. Hit. Hurt. Occasionally raped. He fell for it all the time when he was little. Now, he never dared to. “You sure? We just wanna show you around.” The big blue eyes…Raph wanted to trust them. They looked so kind. Not the fake kindness that he was given when he was little, but…maybe, just maybe… No. Never. They’d never do that. They’d never be nice to him. The braces on his knees told him exactly that. The turtles hadn’t even noticed them. Or his collar. Rather, what was left of it. It was just a red band he used to wear on his head when he was young. It just got too big for his head and he moved it to his neck.

Mikey frowned. Something about the way Raph rocked back and forth made him think that he did want out, but that he was just scared to get out. “Guys? Guys! Could you help? I think Raph wants to hang out, now!” No, he wanted to stay! But if they wanted him out, he had to get out. Raph scrambled out of his little hiding place, face smacking into the olive turtle’s legs. He looked up, half-scared and half-angry. Donnie looked down, wondering as to why Raph insisted on crawling around. It couldn’t be helped for now. Don knelt down, hopeful that being on Raph’s level would calm him down, and asked, “Do you want to go get a drink? Eat? Sleep?” Raph stayed quiet, hunkering down lower. He always had to be lower. It’s how they knew he was good. That he’d listen.

“Raph? Hey, don’t do that.” Raph shot back up and the top of his skull bashed into Don’s jaw. He whined, fighting the urge to rub his own head. Don made it up for him, rubbing his palm across the bruise already forming. “Hungry?” Raph wasn’t sure, but he nodded anyway. If they were asking, then they obviously wanted him to. “Okay, then. We’ll get you some food and then you can sleep. That okay?” He was quiet. Don sighed. His brother couldn’t even talk. Treated like an animal. Despicable people. Humans. Dirty, stupid humans. The rage was rolling off him in waves, wanting to be unleashed on something, but now was…clearly not the time.

Taking gentle hold of his brother’s arm, Don started to pull him to his feet, but he began to whine more and more, until he just cried out, crashing back down to the floor and dragging Donnie with him. His sight landed on the metal braces clamped firmly on Raphael’s legs. With a deep breath, Don felt around them, finding a clamp and then twisting it to get it to release, which took plenty of effort. The clamps were sticky, rusty even. Even after the metal clattered on the floor, Raph seemed reluctant to stand, as if the very notion could hurt him. Or maybe it would, Don thought. If he had those clamps on, then his legs were probably stuck in that bent position, or they would be for a while. He tried to get Raphael to stand again, anyway. They had to at least test out the boundaries, or else they’d get nowhere. The second time, without the harsh bite of cold metal, Raph managed to stand up, but only for a minute or so. He was able to take a few steps, then collapsed, leaning on Donnie’s legs. He wasn’t about to let him crawl all the way to the kitchen - no matter how hard they tried to keep clean, they still lived in a sewer. Don bent and picked Raph up again, which only got him a miserable little whine in protest.

Leo watched as Donnie carried the starving turtle out to the living room, then set him down and try to get him to walk the last few feet to the kitchen. Mikey watched too, nervously rubbing his arm. “He’s…Raph’s gonna be okay. Right? He’s gonna be okay?”  
"There's no telling at this point, Mikey. We just have to wait. Wait and see where it goes from here."


	3. Chapter 3

Even after getting into the kitchen, Don found that being a caretaker was much harder than it seemed. For starters, Raphael seemed intent on laying on the floor. Which succeeded in making Don royally ticked off, and nothing else. For another thing, when Don finally worked him through the table, Raph didn't seem to want to do anything but sit and stare down at his hands. That made Donnie worry more than anything. He wasn't sure what to do about it. Obviously Raph needed some kind of nourishment - his soft shell and light weight spoke enough for him in that respect - but how were they supposed to feed him when he seemed to refuse to do anything else? Without many other options, Don asked his brothers to call April, even though she was probably asleep. Mikey called and she actually picked up, funnily enough.

"Hey, Mikey. How's it going down there?" Mikey grinned as if she were there. He was honestly always surprised when he talked to April anymore. She sounded so adult. Like what he always imagined a mom would sound like... "Pretty good. So, you know much about..." He paused. Should he tell her about Raphael or just sort of vaguely mention animals? Maybe the second option was better. "Stray animals?"  
"Stray animals? That's a weird thing to get me up for in the middle of the night."  
"But you picked up right away."  
"...Fine, you caught me. I wasn't sleeping well. So, stray animals. What's wrong?"  
"Uh...um... I-it's a...family thing."  
"Family thing?" Concern edged into the woman's voice. "Mikey, what's wrong? Did you guys get hurt or something?"  
"N-no, it's just...we found another mutant and he can't really do anything on his own. We're trying to get him to eat now, but he's not having it."  
"Is it that bad?"  
"...Yeah."  
"I can't tell you much, Mikey. I don't know much about that kind of thing. But if I had to guess, if it gets bad enough, you might have to feed him through a funnel or something. That's gotta be a last-resort thing, though. I've heard that force-feeding anything is really stressful and usually does more harm than good. Otherwise, just keep offering him stuff, see what happens."  
"Okay...thanks, April. You're the best." As Mikey moved to set the phone down, April said something again. "Huh?"   
"I asked if you were okay. I know that Donnie and Leo can sometimes get a little carried away and forget how you feel when something this serious comes up."  
"I'm fine."  
"If you say so. You know you're free to come over whenever you want. Right?"  
"Right..."  
"Good luck with your new mutant, Mikey. Night."  
"Night, April." The dial tone gave a long, monotone _bliiiiiiiiiiip_ before he clicked his phone off. Mikey exhaled, going back into the kitchen.

At that point, Leo and Donnie had both been able to set out half of the contents of their refrigerator, with Raphie having touched none of it. He hardly dared to look at it. Maybe if he didn't look at it, they wouldn't care any longer, just leave him to find somewhere to lay down and while away the few hours of life he was allowed. But no, they continued to go on, prodding him, encouraging him to at least look at what they had set out for him. He wouldn't fall for it. Never again. He always promised himself, every night, that whenever they tried another mean, evil trick, that he wouldn't let it work again. Sometimes it worked, like coming out of his cubby hole without being told. But most others, he fell for every time. Like with food. 

The humans and the dog would always dangle food in front of him, something good, just to watch him try getting it, then snatching it out of his reach. They were always mean like that. Always so ready to dole out punishments. Of any kind. The dog's favorite was with sex. Raph hated that. He could handle all the beatings, the pulling, the choking, but when he was forced to submit to be fucked, he hated it, wished for any other torture. Maybe he should be grateful that this was all they were doing. "Raph? Come on, you need to eat. Please." The feral one shook his head, stubbornly crossing his arms. Not this time. "Raphael, please. You need to get better. We want you to get better. But to do that, you need to eat something. Anything. We aren't trying to hurt you." He risked glancing at the olive turtle and almost instantly regretted it. His eyes were slowly widening, brimming with tears, ready, it seemed, to start bawling any minute.

Some of them were good at that. Most of them were good at acting like that. Acting like they really cared. The dog wasn't good at it. He tried once. Raphael bit him, hard. On his snout. He raged for days, weeks. 

Raphael shook his head. He didn't want any part of it. Didn't want to deal with it. Just wanted his dark hiding place. That was all. The Foot, horrible as they were, at least allowed him that. Donnie clenched and unclenched his fists, ready to throw a tantrum. No way, though. He had to save it. Save the anger for someone far more deserving. "Okay... Alright. We won't make you do it now," Don muttered, half to himself, "but you gotta eat some time today. For now, let's just get you in a bed, hm?" Raph looked at him oddly, like he didn't understand. He did, of course, but he wasn't sure for what reason. A bed? The most he was allowed was a small pile of thin sheets that barely blocked the cold of the floor. He never really remembered what a bed was or what it felt like. Better to simply play along to what they wanted, though. Then they'd let him out and he could go beg to be taken back.

Taking great care to work around his wounds, Donnie led Raphael through the lair to their spare room next to his. He opened up the door and gave it a quick inspection, during which he left Raph alone. He glanced around the room, unsure of his surroundings. Was this what he'd live in? It was so big. Compared, at least, to what he was used to. Donnie waved to the bed, made up quite nicely, though there was a thin layer of dust on the bedding. "That's where you'll sleep, okay? Got it?"  
"Yeah..." Don felt his heart stop. Maybe Raph was still able to be saved after all. "You...can still talk." Raph finally caught up with the conversation. He sank down to his hands and knees, lowly whimpering, trying his best to seem harmless. At this rate, he wouldn't be back with the Foot any time soon. "Wha- Hey, no, Raph, get up. It's fine, I promise." Don took his brother by the arm and pulled him back up. "It's fine. I was worried you couldn't do that. I'm happy you can. Just...don't worry much about it, though. Alright?" No, it was certainly _not_ alright. Donnie hit his fist on his forehead. He was dealing with a brother - an **older** brother - that had no inkling of what was right and wrong. What was he thinking?

"N-never mind me. Just talk a bit more. That used to help you. You'd talk to me about what went wrong and I'd help you try to fix it. Remember?"  
"N-no..."  
"Well, uh... Forget it, forget it. All I want to do is hear you talk. ...I'll bet you still have that dorky Brooklyn accent, huh?"  
"Guess so. Not sure." It was there. As if the voice had never left. And that made Don's heart warm up to this idea. "It is. So, sit down, and we can talk. Yeah?" Raph shook his head furiously. "No. No, no, no. Can't. Can't sit." Don frowned. This was so backwards. He'd imagined that Raph, after enduring years of hell, would love to be shown some comfort, some affection. But perhaps that was the point. Donnie considered it for a good moment, just standing there with his head bowed as he usually did. Perhaps his brother was so conditioned to think so little of himself he thought it was bad. An unforgivable sin to do something as little as sit on a soft bed. That certainly didn't help his mood. "I'll kill all of them," Don mumbled, voice lowering an octave. "Make them all bleed for this..." Squeezing his eyes tight, Don pushed that all out of his head. He needed to focus on one thing right now, and that was getting his brother well again. Couldn't accomplish that if his head was full of guts and gore.

 _Firstly_ , Don thought to himself, _how is Raph going to settle down in here? He doesn't feel good enough for the bed. Maybe..._ Donatello pulled the sheets and blanket from the bed, arranged them in a small pile on the floor, then put the two pillows at one side of it. A perfect little nest. "Would you prefer that rather than up here?" Raph nodded, then lowered himself down. Unfortunately, his legs still weren't used to straightening and bending, so he collapsed before he got halfway into a crouch. Donnie, wide-eyed with worry, was at his side in an instant, helping him lower down onto the little nest. "Is that...any better than the bed?"  
"Yeah... Guess so." Don sat cross-legged next to his feral brother, delicately placing his hand over Raph's thigh, watching closely as he settled in. Once he got into his little makeshift-nest, Raphael seemed content in it, and a few moments later, he was sleeping soundly. The genius turtle sighed, slowly rubbing his thumb across the still-dirty scales of his brother.

They were far from healing. But this? It was a step in the right direction. If nothing else.


	4. Chapter 4

Don eventually fell asleep, though it took hours of silence. Dreamland didn't help him at all. He had dreams of blood, death, of killing. Bradford, especially. He died _so_ many times, died _so_ horribly. The pleasing dreams were interrupted by a soft touch on his arm. It jolted him awake, half-panicking that he'd just dreamed up finding his brother too, until he looked down and noticed Raph, and...red! Blood! "Raph! What happened?! Where'd you get hurt?" Donnie knelt close, hovering just inches above his brother. Though he wanted to see what had happened, Raphael refused to let him see, quaking and cowering, deathly afraid of what could happen if he did. 

It took some doing, but Don finally managed to roll his brother over and see the ugly streaks of red falling down his forearm. Looking at his face, the same red streaks were dripping down the corner of his mouth. "Raph! No, no, what are you doing?!"  
"Hungry," he mumbled, crossing his legs and trying to look for a retreat. Don leaned away to fumble through the night-stand drawer and Raph used the opportunity to dart under the bed. He didn't have time to look for another place to hide, so he made do with this one, backing into the far corner where he would be hidden. Down in the dark, he was usually left alone. Left to his own devices, which was usually just trying to sleep. He'd slept so much, though, that he was sure that they wanted him to stay out of his spot. 

"Raph? Raph, come out of there, I need to fix that." Eyes clamped tightly shut, Raphael flattened himself to the wall as best as he could. If they couldn't find him, they'd leave him alone. If they couldn't see him, they couldn't find him. If he shut his eyes, they couldn't see him. But they did. He felt the hand on his arm and instinctively hissed, glaring towards the other turtle. But he didn't want to try biting him again. Usually if he bit someone, he just tasted sweat, sometimes blood. When he bit this one the night before, he tasted like leather, oil, grease, and something else. Something Raph couldn't figure out. Whatever it was, it was all really unpleasant. As he glared towards the turtle, he saw where he'd bitten him, right on his wrist, and the mark was turning a different color. Raph didn't know what the color was. Just that it was different.

Donnie reached further forward and touched Raph again, trying to coax him out. It didn't seem to work, but he knew it was vital to get him out to treat his bite. Unless... Donnie was reluctant to do so. However, he had no other choice, so he lifted the mattress up, propping it on its side against the wall, exposing Raph to the dim light. He hissed again, but with nowhere to go, he didn't bother moving. Don grabbed what he'd been able to find for first-aid in the bedroom - more or less a few old Band-Aids and a near-empty, dried up tube of Neosporin - which had to be enough for Raph until Don could manage to get him some better bandaging. The smart one couldn't help but sigh, oddly content with this. He thought back to when they were kids, when Raph always insisted on playing rough, and even though he cried like the rest of them when he got hurt, he still refused to let their father tend to his wounds. Even when they wound up being serious.

That happy memory filled his head for a quiet moment until reality gave him a hard slap in the face. The blood that streamed down his brother's forearm was making a teeny puddle underneath him. Even if it was small, the fact that he was losing enough for it to pool up was alarming. Wasting no more time, Don managed to pull his brother out from under the bed frame, patching the band-aids on as well as he possibly could, then picking up Raph and hurrying him off to properly fix him up. This was going to be one hell of a day...

\- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

_Of course, bandaging his wound is ten times easier than getting him out from under a stupid bed_ , Don bitterly thought to himself as he absently rubbed his hands over the bandages he'd wrapped around Raphael's arm. Now that he was out in the open, Don found that he was far more cooperative. It made him hurt, that he had to put his brother through all this stress just to help him. Maybe that was just the price. But Don had figured that this would be more like the animal rehab Mikey liked to watch on the nature channels, where they started out rocky, then after a few days they were just fine, with some of them getting set back a little by things here and there. Don exhaled deeply. _Just calm down, Donnie. It's only been a day. He'll be fine. And even if he's not-_ He cut himself off mid-thought when Raph started to pull at the gauze. Donatello pushed his hand away, flattening the bandage again. "You can't do that, Raph. It won't heal if you do. None of them will. You understand?" Don tried to catch his brother's eye, but was clearly being avoided. "Yeah," was the mumbled response, though it was rather unconvincing.

"Raph, if there's something wrong, tell me. Or else we can't help you."  
"Why?" Don was taken aback. "What do you mean?"  
"Why ya want me t' talk? Nobody likes me talkin'..." Leo walked in, tapping on the metal door to get his brother's attention. Raph jumped, clinging tight to Donnie's arm for some kind of anchor. "Sorry to...interrupt." The leader's eyes narrowed at the sight of Raphael. He didn't look down on him, didn't resent Donnie for bringing him home, but he just didn't like how skittish he was, how quick to react. It just felt wrong, somehow. "Don? Can I talk to you? Alone?" He added, noting how Raph seemed to follow Donnie off the med table. After prying his arms away, Don gave Raph a little reassurance, whispering "It won't take long, I promise. Can you sit here and be fairly still while I go talk with Leo?" His mind didn't quite follow, but Raph understood when he wasn't wanted. He curled into a ball, hugging his knees to his chest, gently rocking on the table.

"Okay, Leo, what's so important that you have to drag me away from our brother?" Donnie demanded as soon as they stepped out. "You know, we could all do without your attitude, Donnie. I was planning on just telling you that Mikey made breakfast, but I think there's something else I need to say."  
"Which is?"  
"That you need to keep in mind where Raphael's been living all these years."  
"Wait...you think he's going to rat us out to the Foot?! They've treated him like dirt! He doesn't know where he's at, he doesn't know what's going on, but I think we can both safely assume that he _doesn't_ want the Foot clan! I can't believe you, Leo! You're the one who looked the longest when Master Splinter told us about him when we were sixteen! You're the one who kept telling us not to give up because he wasn't standing right in front of us! It's been five fucking years, Leo! What happened to all that?!"  
"I saw what happened to him, that's what! I didn't think it'd be this bad..."  
"Oh, so now that _you've_ seen that he's lived almost twenty years being treated like garbage, it's okay to just think badly of him? I'm not about to live like that, Leo. Maybe you can, but not me, and not Mikey, either. He doesn't even remember Raph, but he still wants to get to know him, to help him heal. Yet you can't be bothered." Don scoffed and turned away from his sibling. "Some brother you are," he muttered under his breath as he pushed open the door to his lab. Raph was still sitting where he'd left him, which was a relief. Don was worried that he'd try to crawl off again to hide.

He had to take a deep breath to calm himself before he could say anything else. Don knew that Leo just meant well, that he was trying to keep any more brothers from being so clearly brainwashed and hurt, but it made Donnie so utterly furious that he'd think so little of Raph. It wasn't his fault his mind was so fractured. Nor was it Leo's, Don begrudgingly reminded himself. "Okay, so, do you feel like eating now? Mikey probably made something special for you. Wanna go try it out?" Raph shook his head. His throat hurt too much just from speaking, and he'd more or less 'eaten'. That's what he was usually left with when he got hungry. Told he should put his own damn body to good use until he got the great idea - to him - to bite himself and lick up the blood that poured out. Plenty of the scarring wounds were bites that he didn't let close because he was afraid he'd go hungry. 

Don frowned. Nothing was really going as expected, which was very rare. Donnie thought everything out, down to a T, and things rarely strayed from that T. This wasn't a machine he was working with, though. It was another turtle, someone with free will, that didn't adhere to specifics. No...didn't adhere to _their_ specifics. But Don wouldn't let himself stoop down to the Foot's level and keep treating his brother like trash. Never. Donnie put his arm around Raph's shoulders to push him back onto the table. That's what he'd do. Act like Raphie always used to. Go against what he wanted. For his brother's sake. Gently, though. That was the name of the game. Push him, but not too hard.

He just had to manage it. Raph was delicate. For all he tried to be, all he tried to act, he was fragile, in every way imaginable.

_Deep breaths_ , Donnie reminded himself, _deep, deep breaths. For Raph. Remember who you're doing this for._ "We'll get you some food in a few minutes. For now, I'm gonna wrap up all these nasty injuries. The...the ones that haven't been infected, anyway," he mumbled, wincing as he looked over the yellowing, bare skin where scales had been completely rubbed or torn off, or had simply fallen off. He ducked down into a cabinet, rummaging around until he reemerged with a thick roll of gauze and a bottle of hydrogen peroxide. Don bandaged the lesions, sores, and cuts that he could find that were clean - he only ended up with a few patches of white around Raph's limbs. And that wasn't a third of what he had. Which meant...oh boy. Don doubted that Raph had had any pleasant experiences with cleaning at all, much less anything as harsh as peroxide. 

All he could do was try to clean him with soap and water again and hope that the infections wouldn't worsen. Don picked up the bucket, still left where it had been the night before, and wrung out one of the rags. For as infected as some of the injuries were, Don didn't scrub hard. That'd just remove what little skin was left, and then poor Raph would be even worse off. But, Don found that his frustration was catching up to him. As he worked down Raph's body, bandaging the wounds after cleaning them, he realized just how upset and twisted his feral brother's mind was. Every time he moved away to reach for the gauze and bandages, Don turned back to see Raph trying to pick the sore or cut open again, and the few times he did, he was ready and eager to lap up the blood. Don managed to stop him and clean and wrap the opened injuries each time, but he was baffled as to why Raph was so hell-bent on it. About the sixth time they went through the process - Don turning to get the bandages, Raph picking open the wound and then licking the spurting blood, Don quickly lifting his head then wrapping up the open wound - Raph started to whimper, whine, almost cry. "St-stop... N-need it."  
"Need what?"  
"Red...red water. Can't eat nothin' else..." Donnie's stomach churned. He couldn't hear this. "Yes you can."  
"Can't..."  
"Raphael, you can, and you will. I don't care what those sick fucks did to you or what they told you, you can forget all of it. This isn't like it was there. We aren't gonna hit you, we aren't gonna hurt you at all, and there's no chance that we're gonna let you eat your own blood and leave it at that." Raphael shut his mouth. He wanted to say something else, but what was the point when the turtle was just going to ignore it? 

Donnie wanted his brother to get better. Raph didn't think there was anything to get better from. Leo watched from the cracked door. "There's too much of a gap, Donnie," he mumbled, hand balling up. 

"This is just something you can't fix."


End file.
